


Mens Rea

by Fyre



Category: Roma sub Rosa Series - Steven Saylor
Genre: Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14118438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: Sometimes, a secret shared is a burden halved.





	Mens Rea

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to Rubicon.
> 
> Mens rea - Latin for "Guilty Mind"

The truth had been revealed.

My family knew of the blood on my hands.

It was strange, feeling that remaining weight fall away from my shoulders. It was as if I had finally released a breath that I wasn’t even aware I was holding. No wonder, I thought, as Bethesda grasped my hand and squeezed it until it ached. All I had asked for all of our many years together was truth. I was not a man made for lies and deception, especially not to my family.

They spoke, but I could scarcely hear them. They knew why it was done. They knew whose life I was trying so hard to save. They understood that I’d done everything I had to do. Comfort and love and the iron grip of my wife’s fingers around mine.

Oh, she might be angry at my foolishness, but she would have done the same for Meto, for any of our children or our grandchildren. 

After some time, there was silence broken only by the shrill of a bird over the rooftops.

“I suppose,” Davus said slowly, “you didn’t have to come over the wall.”

I looked at him blankly then saw the rueful smile that played across his lips. I almost smiled in return, remembering how carefully he had checked and double-checked everything he had done when Numenius arrived at my home. He had blamed himself that day. 

“No,” I agreed, running my thumb along Bethesda’s. “Forgive me, Davus. I brought the burden of Atlas down on you.”

He waved my words away, his other arm snugly around Diana. She had not looked at me from the moment I had revealed what I had done. Her hands were clasped together in her lap and even from the opposite couch, I could see how white her knuckles were.

“You’re sure there’s nothing else that could be a threat to Meto?” Eco asked, though there was a hitch in his voice and we all knew why. Massilia. One threat gone, another far greater to take its place. I had inadvertently removed a blade from my son’s neck and handed him the noose slip over his head instead.

“The papers were destroyed.” Pointlessly, knowing Meto’s true purpose, but at least we were aware of that now. No more secrets within our walls. “No one can know. If word reaches anyone from the Pompey faction, Meto would be as good as dead.”

“Our family are known for keeping the secrets of others,” Diana said quietly. It was the first thing she had said. I looked across the space between us and saw the flicker of a pained smile cross her pale lips. “More so when it’s for one of our own.”

Something in her tone must have touched her husband, because Davus lowered one of his meaty hands to cover hers in her lap.

Bethesda eased her own grip on my hand, turning my palm up and staring at my lined and scarred skin as if it could offer her some foresight. “And if Pompey returns?” It was said lightly, but it was the lodestone which pulled every thought towards it.

I had no wish to consider it – sometimes I remember his face twisted up in murderous rage – and I think Eco could read that in my expression. “Let’s see if we can survive Caesar first,” he said. “I’d rather worry about the lion at my gate than the wolf across the sea.”

“Will there be reprisals?” Diana asked suddenly.

“Reprisals?” I was too tired to understand. Bethesda had already asked about Pompey and I couldn’t see who else could come after us.

Diana met my eyes. “If Caesar’s people believe Meto is a traitor we may have more than the lion to worry about.”

It was growing cooler as twilight descended and I shivered. “I don’t know.”

“No.” Eco sounded decisive. “Papa is known throughout the city for his neutrality when it comes to politics. Everyone knows he has never taken to one side or the other. They won’t hold him accountable for Meto’s actions. No one could have foreseen or warned them about this, least of all the most honest man in Rome.”

The description made me wince. I had barely finished asking my family to lie for my missing son after all. “We’ll say no more of it,” I said, praying that I sounded my assured than I felt. “If people ask, we only know he has left Caesar’s legions. We don’t know the particulars.” It was a manner of the truth and it didn’t rest so heavily on my tongue as an overt lie.

There wasn’t much left to say. I was more exhausted than I had realised. I don’t know if it was only the relief of knowing the truth about Meto or the removal of the yoke of guilt that had been lying so heavily on my shoulders.

Eco – of course – noticed. “I should get back,” he said, rising from the couch. 

I rose too, walking with him to the front door. The house was dark and quiet after the evening glow in the garden and the birds in the trees. He paused at the door and looked at me as if he could read every line of my face.

“I’m sorry, papa,” he said so softly I could barely hear him. “You should never- I know how hard it must have been for you.”

I wanted to smile, shake my head and tell him it was necessary, but I was spent. When he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, I had to press my eyes closed. They were burning with grief and anger and a thousand other emotions. I could only stand there, my arms limp by my sides, and try to keep from weeping.

Once he departed, I took my time closing up the house behind him. The garden was empty when I returned and I could see the glow of a lamp in the chamber I shared with Bethesda. I wanted nothing more than to go and lose myself in her embrace, but instead I sank to sit on my couch, touching the place where she had sat. A little of her warmth still lingered.

A whisper of cloth on stone warned me I was not as alone as I believed. Over my shoulder I saw a pale face emerge from the shadows, wreathed with black.

“Diana.”

She remained where she was, at the edge of the garden, one hand braced against the light- and shadow-cast pillar. “You could have told me, papa.”

I looked away from her, back to the tiles, the colours changed by the moonlight. “No.”

She moved as silent as a lemure across the courtyard and touched my shoulder. “Of all people, you know I would have understood.”

I nodded, watching the play of light and shadow across the tiles. I did know. I remembered her words all too clearly, even across the years. Walking as one in a dream, gathering the tool to take a life from my chest, carrying out the act, then silently withdrawing as if I played no part in it. Had she felt as I felt when she took Dio’s life, I wondered. If not, did I truly wish to know?

She told me I would have done the same thing to protect my family. She was right and some part of me had never wanted to believe it. When I twisted the cord, when Numenius gasped and choked, Dio’s face had flashed before my eyes, and Diana’s, and she was right.

Slim arms wrapped around my shoulders and she pressed her cheek to my hair. 

If she had spoken and offered some false platitude that it would get easier and that everything would be fine, I wouldn’t have believed her. She said nothing, her hair a dark cascade around us, and I felt the heat of her tears as they dropped onto my skin. I lifted my hand to squeeze her arm and felt the shiver run through her.

“You’re cold, daughter,” I said as gently as I could, though my throat felt raw and tight. “Go to your husband. Warm yourself.”

“You’re cold too, papa.”

Cold and old and tired. “Yes.”

She tightened her arms around me, as if she could pull the scattered parts of me back together. “Go to mama. Warm yourself.”

I almost managed to smile. “Impudent child.” 

She sniffed softly and pressed her hands to my shoulders as she straightened up. “I love you, papa.”

I covered her hand with mine for a moment, then she stepped away, her fingers trailing between mine as she left me to my thoughts. 

Above me, the sky was a deeper shade, pinpricks of starlight visible through the smudges of cloud. I turned my face up and closed my eyes, letting the coolness of the night air chill my skin. 

I don’t know how long I sat there, but my legs were stiff and aching when I finally rose and made my way to the welcoming glow of the lamp in my room. Bethesda was curled up in the bed already and I thought she might be asleep, but as I shed my tunic, she turned her head slightly to look up at me.

Without a word, she turned onto her side to face me and lifted the covers, offering the safe and warm comfort of her arms. She still hissed when my cold limbs brushed against hers, but she didn’t recoil.

“Bethesda…” I began.

She touched my lips with her fingertip. “I know,” she said quietly. “He’s our son.”

I caught her hand in mine and kissed her palm. Sometimes, I thought, as she wrapped her body around me, she understands me better than I understand myself. I drew her hand down to rest over my heart and shivered as she curled her fingers against my skin.

She tucked her face close to my throat, her breath warm and the curls of her hair rippling against my cheek. “Good night, husband,” she whispered.

I squeezed her hand and closed my eyes. “Good night, wife.”


End file.
